The Sun King Seneschals have been burdened by guilt longer then most chosen can remember.

Now their mates have returned, yet none could agree to a decisive course of action. It was not until their reborn lovers began to go missing that their voices fell to a whisper. Silence only came when the moon's chosen joined them in absence, becoming ravening, monstrous chimera. Both herald the banner of a religion, a cult, newly emergent. Shocked and horrified, the Fickled Lady showed them that worst had yet to come...

.. for among the Silver Pact a cabal of elders have taken to working with these shadowy sycophants in exchange for devouring their counterparts.

You are Lunars. Sun King Seneschals! This is the North. The North is cold and unforgiving; is good for Lunars!

Solars are babbies. They cry about it being 'too cold!' and 'I might die if you drop me from this mountain!'. You want to make them not-babbies.

BUT! someone is stealing all the babby Solars and making them into spoiled jerkasses. Even worse, they're turning other Lunars into babbies. Crazy, mutant babbies. This is bad! What are you gonna do? Punch them in their faces, that's what you gonna do!